Fanfic: Ode To Marbles, Knockaround Guys, TaylorM
by justjanedoe
Summary: A moment between Taylor and Marbles - very hurt/comfort.


Title: An Ode to Marbles (PG ending)  
Author: Paula K.  
Category: Slash  
Rating: PG  
Fandom: Knockaround Guys  
Pairing: Johnny Marbles and Taylor Reese  
Feedback email: Homilessy...  
Warnings, Spoilers: big time movie spoilers!  
Disclaimer: They aren`t mine. The talented guys Brian Koppelman and  
David Levien own these wiseguys - lucky bastards! (they also brought  
us another slashy flick "Rounders")  
Author`s Note: See, I hated the way that Marbles bought it in the  
end. So hard to watch because of how brutal it was. Poor kid. Sure, I  
wanted to slap the shit outta him, but off him? Never. Necrophelia  
just isn`t my thing and he`s way more fun to play with alive! I did  
two endings for this and I'm unsure about the other one... And hey -  
I`ve never done a story in this person before, so please be merciful!

~~An Ode to Marbles~~

Tonight, I`m at Taylor`s. His place is just as sparse as his  
attitude. Just enough to get him there. Whenever I`ve hung out here  
it was mostly because Chris had dragged me over with him. To watch  
fights or a game, maybe, if we had money riding on it or somethin`.  
Not that I don`t like hanging with Taylor or anything - he`s the  
coolest guy I`ve ever fucking met. Probably ever`ll know, even. It`s  
just - well, Taylor intimidates me. I always felt like being myself -  
for Taylor - isn`t enough.

Tonight, though, I caught up with my cousins Chris and Matty and shot  
pool while Taylor bounced at this nasty fuckin` bar on the East Side.  
For a change, I even won some cash. Afterwards, I caught a ride with  
Taylor, who was nursing two busted knuckles and a fat lip. Of course,  
the other guy - the dumbest sonofabitch I ever saw - would most  
likely be breathing out of a tube for the next month. All in all,  
Taylor came out ahead. Like usual.

Not that Taylor ever saw a fight like that. Like he would  
automatically win. He never assumed nothin`. He simply walked into a  
situation, assessed the problem and then solved it. If Taylor was  
standing up, looking across from you from that stance that he has  
when he`s been pushed even a little too far, the best thing for you  
is to just take it. Don`t go tryin` to talk about things `cause  
Taylor`s never been much of a talker. Trust me, he doesn`t care what  
you have to say if you are not part of his universe. And talking?  
Well, that just makes him more set on making you stop. Just take what  
you got comin` and shut the fuck up. End of story.

Me? I been lucky. Done some stupid shit that should`ve gotten my ass  
beat but good. But Taylor never hit me. Even when I got us hauled off  
by the cops and he`d done time because of it. But after, the look he  
gives me - well, I`d rather just take the beating I deserve and be  
done with it. I hate that fuckin` look.

Tonight, though, like I was sayin`, I`m with Taylor and we`re hanging  
out while he drives me home. We get to my house and I move to get out  
of the van and I`m suddenly flinching back. My heart starts to pound  
a little and I don`t want to look over at Taylor `cause I`m ashamed.  
I know he can hear my folks goin` at each other like two dogs caged.  
I`m shakin` and gettin` nervous but because it`s my fuckin` house,  
I`m goin` inside. Or so I think.

Before I know it, Taylor`s got me by the back of my jacket and is  
pulling me back inside the van. I close the door, thinking he`ll just  
wait a few minutes so that I head in when the dust settles. Before I  
can say anything to him, the car is in reverse. I still can`t look at  
him. I know he remembers what it`s like. But shit like this ain`t  
happened to him since he was like 14. When his Pop got sent away,  
that`s when Taylor started fighting. His old man got killed while he  
was doin` time, tryin` to *stop* a fight during dinner, if you can  
believe it. And after that, Taylor was never the same.

We pull up in front of his walk-up and start up the stairs. Taylor  
says he likes living on the top floor. The view is better from up  
there. Silently, I take my coat off and he takes it. He can be real  
polite like that and it surprises people. He grabs two beers and  
flows me one, moving to the couch and turning on the t.v. We sit  
there; taking pulls of our beer, watching cartoons for a while. I  
think I finally stopped shakin` but I`m tired. Tired of the fightin`  
at my house. My old man. My ma. What a pain in the ass. I finish my  
beer, settin` the bottle on the floor and tip my head back and close  
my eyes.

(PG ENDING)  
I must`ve fallen asleep, though, because the next thing I know, I`m  
leanin` on Taylor and he`s pettin` my hair like he does Matty  
whenever he`s been dogged by his own Pop. Benny can be a real ball-  
buster. Taylor and Matty have a thing that none of us mention. It`s  
been goin` on now for a long time. And to tell ya the truth - and I  
swear to Christ if you tell a goddamned soul -I... well, I`m a little  
jealous of `em. They connect and it`s obvious that it works for `em.  
Matty needs someone to make him feel safe sometimes, though he`s  
never said it. And who the fuck is safer than Taylor? Whatever, man.  
I just know that right now, bein` more than half asleep, watching the  
flicker of the television and feelin` that hand on my hair all  
gentle... Knowin` what that hand can do when it needs to? Well, I  
feel safe. And I like that. A lot.

(OR - if you wan it - The NC-17 ENDING)

We catch the end of some fight from a million years ago and finally  
he settles on some low-grade porn. Something like Showtime would  
show. I think I've finally stopped shakin' but I'm still feelin'  
embarrassed by my folks. And to top it all off, I'm nervous as shit  
now because I'm - and don't go tellin' anyone this or I'll kick your  
ass, I swear to fuckin' Christ - not that umm…experienced when it  
comes to sex. Everything makes me hard. I swear, it started when I  
was 13 and it never went away.

So now, we've been watching this cheesy porn for almost 15 minutes  
before I start - er…reactin' to what I'm seein' on the screen. The  
guy is strong. Not as strong as Taylor, but then not many guys are,  
are they? And I'm shiftin' a little while I try *not* to look at  
Taylor, but I can sometimes feel him watchin' me. And for some weird  
moment, I wonder if he does this with Chris. Somehow, I doubted it.

Matty? More `n likely yeah. Taylor and Matty have somethin' that  
neither think anyone knows about. But Taylor's pretty obvious about  
his feelin's for Matty. And it's plain that Matty ain't got feelin's  
for anyone but the big guy. Sometimes I think about it. Yeah, yeah -  
I ain't queer. Well… And what if I am? What's it to you anyways, you…  
And you go callin' me that and Taylor'll beat your ass - so think  
about it first, you… whatever, man.

Where was I? Oh yeah, we're watchin' porn and I'm sittin' there,  
gettin' all excited and bein' all nervous and shit and before I know  
it, Taylor's pulled me up against him. Like my back to his chest and  
my heart's poundin' and I'm half-scared because he doesn't say  
nothin'. Taylor's just…sittin' there, holdin' me like. Then I feel  
his hand on my crotch - like he knows exactly what I been sittin'  
there thinkin'. At first I think it's a joke, right? Like he's gonna  
push me away and make a laugh out of it, maybe bust my balls a little  
for gettin' hard in front of him. But he doesn't. He just rubs me  
through my jeans and I'm so shocked that I turn my head, pressin' my  
face into his bicep hard, ashamed but not able to stop it because of  
how good it feels.

Maybe it don't matter to Taylor. Bein' with guys, I mean. And for the  
record, it ain't `guys' in that sense. Far's I know, it's just Matty.  
And now me, maybe. But for a guy his size, you'd think he'd have a  
small brain and a short fuse. But not Taylor. The guy just ain't like  
that. He don't just hate people just to hate `em. Hell, his mother's  
a Jew for Christsakes. So, he don't hold nothin' against anyone in  
particular, even. And right now I'm fuckin' glad about that because  
he's holdin' his hand against my dick and I'm sort of groaning and he  
doesn't seem to mind a bit. I still can't take my face away from his  
arm, though. The feel of that rough thermal cotton on my face and oh  
my fucking god - he's got his hand in my pants and he's touchin' me  
and I'm feelin' like I'm gonna explode.

Taylor's hand is so strong and yet he's got pretty soft skin for the  
kind of work that he does. Just a little rough. The perfect amount of  
rough. And he's squeezin' just the right way and I know I won't be  
long because he's pumpin' it hard and I'm tryin' not to grind up into  
his fist but it's so hard -no pun intended-.

Finally, he gives me one last, hard stroke and I'm finished. I'm  
breathin' like I just been chased by two fuckin' cops for a mile.  
Then I feel Taylor wipe his hand on some kleenex before cleanin' me  
up and puttin' me away and zippin' me up. Like I said, he can be  
polite like that sometimes. We still ain't said a word, Taylor and  
me. He doesn't push me away or ask for anything for himself, though.  
Just lets me lay against him and I can feel myself, face still  
pressed hard against that muscular arm of his, driftin' off to sleep.


End file.
